Exile
by brassmonki
Summary: *complete* Your typical adventure story of an exiled prince desperately trying to find help to return home. Then again, he will find help with a walking marshmallow, a fox and a dino. Maybe not so typical...
1. 1

Disclaimer: If I owned Super Smash Bro. Melee and/or all the characters and games in it, I would be very rich. As it stands, I don't own it, but what the hell, if there's a class action by all the creators of the games (and wonderful people you are) to get this thing off the net, I will do it, no problem guv................... sigh why can't I stay serious?  
  
I mean, this story started off as a serious one, basically a walkthrough of the standard hero tale. Then I realised that I couldn't stay serious for more than five minuits...  
Bugger.  
  
First smash bro. fic, so feel free to yell at me for making the characters ooc....... although I'm noy sure how I could do that, because they're game characters.... I'll shut up now, and let you read the fic...  
  
Chapter1  
  
Typical weather for an enchanted forest seemed unwilling to budge for the day. Because of this, it seemed as though it was perpetually sunset, or sunrise, with sunbeams slanting through the leafy canopy, with the occasional sprite flitting past making a minute shadow on the ground. The air was slightly powdery with the kind of dust that knows its only job is to make laser special effects look good. If you're asking why is the dust thinking, there's an enchanted forest with sprites flitting across everywhere. Why are you asking questions NOW?  
  
Blissfully unaware of the semi-intelligence of the dust in the air, a blue haired former prince rode on a pure white charger. Well, it had started pure white, but then it had got on the road. It was now a dull greyish brown from the dirt that had been kicked up from dusty roads trod long before it entered the forest. And frankly it was more than a little annoyed. Two damn weeks it had been carrying the exiled prince, two bloody weeks without so much as a turnip for a reward. He missed his stables, and the plentiful supply of hay, salt lick and sugar cubes from little girls who thought they were generating a special bond with a horse.  
  
And then the idiot had decided to enter this blighted forest. Which was all right in some places, and in many ways was better than the hard baked earth of the open road, softer on the hoof at least. But the horse had started to get suspicious when it noticed that grass grew everywhere. Now, this might not seem strange to someone who spent more time indoors than any person should do, but anyone who knows anything about forests knows that the ground is not usually grass, but more a mucky collection of dead leaves and bugs. So the horse was worried. It was due to this and the general feeling in the air that he felt it was an enchanted forest. That, and the talking trees were a dead give-away.  
  
But the prince had been strangely distant of late, not been too generous with the grazing stops, if you know what the horse means. Probably had something to do with that big battle a few weeks ago, when they had stated this merry trek in the wilderness. The horse had taken part in that. Horrible sight. Many of his friends, um, fellow horses had died in that. He got the feeling that they had lost too; by the way the humans had run away. But, the prince on his back had stuck around to the bitter end. Well, not quite the bitter end, he was not stupid. He had stuck around long after the battle had been lost, and had run the horse to exhaustion trying to save little knots of besieged men.   
  
But when the battle was really lost, when there was no one left apart from the prince and a large number of prisoners, the prince had done the sensible thing, and ran away. The horse approved. Running away was a very good decision, very horsey of the human. Frankly anyone who stuck around at the end of the battle when the captured commanders get executed for being too good at their job needed their head examined. But the horse suspected that the fool had some great plan to put the horse in more danger. This was a very smart horse.  
  
The blue haired prince himself did have a vacant look to his steel blue eyes. He had only half decided to walk into this forest. He needed to find help. That was the thing. Find help, then return. Hopefully at the head of a large army of help. Despite what other people said, he did not think he was a very good fighter. He just did not have the mind for it. Well, that's what his father had told him, said he was too soft, or something encouraging like that. But most of that had changed after that whole dragon incident. Having your sword arm half buried in dragon guts changes a man. Or boy, he was only fourteen at the time. And now four years later he was running from a defeat, trying to find help, so he could return home and set his people free. Or something like that.  
  
Perhaps a little description of the prince? As said before, he has blue hair. Not the strange brilliant blue of fake looking dies, or even the electric blue which was a fashion statement in some eyes. It was a dark blue, almost blackish. It was a good thing too, as the hair went almost perfectly with his stylish, yet practical armour, which was thinner than most. He relied on speed, not raw power. In his matching blue hair was a small circlet of gold. He would have dispensed with it, or at least put it some safe place (i.e. dispensing with it in a non-permanent way), but it was the only thing keeping his hair out of his eyes.  
  
On his hip was a sword belt. And on the sword belt was a scabbard. And in that scabbard was a herring. What? A sword is so cliché! Very well…, and in that scabbard was the legendary sword Falchion. Not a very ornate sword, but it seemed to radiate a sense of, a sense of something. You could not quite put your finger on it, mainly because it might slice it off, but there was something about the way it gleamed in the sunlight. Most swords tend to radiate danger, especially when they're being held by someone, but Falchion managed to not only convey danger, but also dread, hope, lust for blood, and glory all in one slightly unnerving package. It was a sword that seemed slightly alive and dreamed of dragons.  
  
In case you had not already guessed, this was Former Prince Marth Lowell of Altea, now uncrowned King of Altea in exile. But Marth had never really cared for titles.  
  
Neither had the pointy-eared tree hugger pointing the bow at him right now...   
  
Author's notes: Kinda short, but what the hell. Review please, I wanna know who's reading this, so I can thank them and give them cookies. 


	2. 2

Disclaimer: Hmm, I own my keyboard, mouse, monitor and house, and yet I own no Smash Brothers.   
(shrug)   
  
This chapters another short one, but I'm buil- ah hell, no technical babble about what the hell I'm doing. I mean, you people don't wanna know do you? It would just ruin the story if I were to tell you I was going to- ... I'm babbling again.  
(shrug)  
Chapter 2  
  
Marth handed the newcomer a chicken leg. The green clad elf-like person took it. They were seated around a fire, and night had fallen on the enchanted forest. Every now and then, a sprite flew into the fire, and zipped back out with a high-pitched yelp.  
  
Marth sat back on the log he was using as a seat and a source of firewood. He broke off a branch and chucked it on the fire, "So you try the high way man thing a lot then?"  
  
"For the last time I wasn't trying to rob you!"  
  
"Could've fooled me. It's not often peaceful people jump out of trees pointing a short bow at me."  
  
The pointy-eared 'peaceful' person looked at Marth across the fire, and took a thoughtful bite from the chicken. "It's my job. Have to protect the land of Hyrule you see."  
  
"Yeah? Your job involve waylaying travellers?"  
  
"Well, you were trotting along quite happily in full battle armour, and frankly that isn't a herring in your scabbard."  
  
"Well it's a lucky thing I was wearing it. It was the only thing protecting my leg from your bloody arrow."  
  
"Now that was an accident-"  
  
"You shot me!"  
  
"Your sword was glowing and you were swinging it around!"  
  
"I was saluting! Pretty crap shot as well..."  
  
"What about the glowing then?"  
  
"It does that when someone's threatening me. I mean in the leg? The armours ruined now..."  
  
"Well it's hard to aim when a horse is trying to trample you to death!"  
  
"He's just a little cranky from walking for two weeks straight."  
  
The elf took another bite of the chicken. "So who are you anyway?"  
  
"Me? I'm currently nobody."  
  
"That's helpful. Got a name, or do I just call you No-ey?"  
  
Marth smiled, for the first time since he left Altea, the horse noted, "My name is Marth Lowell. Who the hell are you?"  
  
"Link, um, just Link."  
  
They sat in silence for a while, Link wolfing down the chicken he had got off Marth, Marth himself just staring blankly into the fire. The horse stood a little way off, happily munching on the enchanted forest grass. He was very pleased with himself; it had been like old times. There was an armed guy in front of him, and he had ridden him down, like a true charger. But that was off set by the fact the arrow had ripped a hole in his finely made surcoat. He really liked that surcoat. It had a nice blue pattern on the outside, and had a lining of silk, although he kept that to himself. He didn't want the other stallions to know about that.   
  
But that little blonde haired git had ripped a hole right through the front of it. And to make matters worse, he had nearly nicked his front leg.   
  
Oh and his rider had got hit, but what was one rider compared to a designer surcoat.  
  
"So Marth, from your accent I can tell you're from Altea. What's been happening there? We got a surge of people running to the hills, then nothing."  
  
"It's ... difficult to explain."  
  
"Well I got nothing but time."  
  
"Okay, let me rephrase that," there was a rustle of movement, "I'm not going to explain."  
  
"... oh ..."  
  
"Glad we understand each other."  
  
"Sure, sure... could you get off my neck?"  
  
Marth withdrew falchion from Link's neck, running the flat of the blade along his skin, just to give him a memory of cold steel. He returned Falchion to his scabbard, and went back to his log. He noticed smoke rising from his cape.  
  
Link watched him with barely controlled laughter as he tore it off and stamped out the flames, "Maybe next time you try that, don't jump over the fire?" Marth shot him a look filled with razor sharp edges. Link merely grinned.   
Authors notes: Sorry, kinda lame and cheesy, but hey, I was bored. Gets better, with lots of red hot sword action.  
  
Really.  
I promise....  
Stop looking at me like that! 


	3. 3

Disclaimer: Normally I'd try and put something vaguely witty in this spot, but, I'm feeling lazy. So go find a disclaimer which you like for any TV show/game/movie, and replace the name with "Smash bro. Melee".  
  
Disclaimer of disclaimer: I do not own the disclaimer which the reader chooses to use.  
  
Well, finally got around to some action. No promises though, I'm mainly used to writing Evangelion action, and there's a BIIIIIIIIIIG difference between 200 feet tall bio-titans and smash brothers.   
  
Chapter 3  
  
It was night. The horse was tied up outside a tall, white church like building. He did not particularly mind being left out all alone. There was some nice grass out here to nibble on, and frankly, the ominous feeling in the air made him glad he was outside the building. Generally temples like this one do have a sense of foreboding but this was different. This was like there was something really building up, something that had really been building up for quite some time. It was barely contained in the stone of the temple walls.  
  
Marth had been in the temple for some time now. He was looking at the small altar at one end of the empty hall. Three glowing jewels hovered above it, spinning gently, light particles fountaning down and disappearing as they touched the altar. He was slightly worried. Glowing spinning things were never high on the list of things he wanted to see, but he had a mission. For his people.  
  
Link had told him about the thing behind the wall, which the altar was in front of. That object which could solve all of his problems with so much ease, and so quickly. If he could only get a hold of that kind of power, he could return to his conquered kingdom and drag his foes from his thrown room and kick them across the sea from whence they came.   
  
He still heard the screams as the capital burned. After the last battle, he had not left immediately. The final confrontation had not been the pitched fight on the nameless plain, but it had been fought by Marth and the remnants of his bodyguard outside the capital gates. They had done what they could, and they made the enemy pay dearly to enter the gates. Hs bodyguard, his friends had all died there. The last one alive in an effort to save his prince, and to keep hope alive for Altea had told him to flee.   
  
But Marth had refused. And the bodyguard looked on him with sad eyes as he hit him over the head, knocking him out. He had come around draped across his horse about a mile from the capital. It was night then too. When he looked at what was once a proud city, his once soft heart had turned to ice. The city was ablaze.  
  
The besieging army had surrounded the gates with archers. Every now and then, his loyal subjects would run through the gates, trying to save themselves from the flames, only to be cut down by the cruel archers in the dark. They had no chance to survive. Either run and be shot, or be trapped like rats in a barrel in the flames of their homes. It made Marth sick to his stomach.  
  
Now, as he watched the spinning jewels, he heard those cries of pain as the city had died. A great mournful wail that had carried on the wind and drifted all across Altea. When a city dies, the country knows. A large piece f it has gone and even the earth mourns it's passing. The people lost send shock waves across the nation, as friends die and relatives disappear. And in the end, there had been no one left in Altea to freely grieve it's passing. A conquered nation is not allowed to mourn it's dead, lest it cause the conquerors discomfort.  
  
Now nothing would stop Marth from using any tool to save his homeland. The cries of the innocent and helpless in the cold night were enough to drive him forward. There was a time, when Link's warning of a great evil which could doom Hyrule would have forced Marth to seek help elsewhere. But the power locked behind that wall was so enticing, a quick silence to the anguished screams in his head.   
  
Tentatively he stepped forward, walking slowly towards the altar. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large blue ocarina. He had stolen it from Link the night he had told him of the power, and he felt no guilt. He had left his remorse with his honour in the dying city.  
  
He stopped a few feet away from the altar, and raised the ocarina to his lips. The fool Hylaian had taught him several songs, the one to open this door being one of them. He did feel a twinge of regret for misleading such a trusting soul, but he put it to fate that there would be an idiot to tell him how to save his home.   
  
He played a few mournful notes.  
  
There was a rush across his body as he felt age-old power awake. He played a few more, and the air around him became electrified with the sorcery he invoked with the song.  
  
He took a deep breath, and began to play the song that would open the gate to his dreams. He became lost in a sea of music as he played, the song gradually spinning out of his control. Age-old magic took hold of him and began to force him to play. Marth felt the exhilaration of power course through his body.   
  
Blue light surrounded the wall before him, and the door began to shrink, before winking out of existence.  
  
The song finished.  
  
He was almost saddened by the departure of the power. He felt better than he had done for some time. The song seemed to have knocked down the walls to his heart, and he had felt like his old self again. For a time there had only been the music, drowning out the screams of his countrymen. And women. And... children.   
  
The ice in his heart returned. He strode through the gap left by the removal of the wall. He saw a sword in a plinth in front of him. That damned elf had lied to him. He had promised power in the form of some talisman, not some sword left by an old warrior. But perhaps, it was the power. Perhaps the sword held some great power, which he could use. He stepped up to the sword, and gingerly reached out to grip it.  
  
"Don't," said a soft voice behind him.  
  
His hand jerked back. His arm still outstretched, he addressed the voice, "Why?"  
  
"Because that does not concern you."  
  
"But it does. You have no idea how much it does."   
  
"Yes. I do. But if you were to pull that sword then this land will be in danger."  
  
"And no one should do that? Hah! My own land is in danger, why should I care for some near forgotten realm?"  
  
The voice was silent. Marth's hand dropped to Falchion at his hip, and he turned slowly to face the voice. "How long have you been watching stranger?"  
  
"Since you entered this temple."  
  
He looked at the figure standing in the doorway of the swords chamber. His face was covered with a mask, and blonde hair peeked out from underneath the cloth wrapped around his head. He wore a blue skin-tight suit, with a large white patch on the chest, a red eye emblazoned on the white patch. His stance indicated that he was not just prepared to move quickly should the need arise, but that he was already moving. His blue eyes watched Marth wearily, as though he was not the first fool to try this.  
  
"Do you know who I am?" he asked warily. If this was one of his enemies assassins he would not betaken unawares.  
  
"Yes," the figure asked, a hint of regret in his voice. Marth was slightly troubled by it. It seemed a shade too feminine. It also seemed familiar. A half forgotten memory of a royal visit. He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind; this was no time to reminisce.  
  
"Then do you know why I am here?"  
  
"Yes. You seek an easy option..."  
  
"Uh huh. Look if you're going to preach to me, could you get a move on? I've got a country to save."  
  
The figure dropped to a fighter's crouch, one arm held in front of him, the other raised behind and above his head. "Very well."  
  
Marth drew Falchion with a flourish, and saluted his opponent. "What is your name?"  
  
"Sheik, of the Shiekah."  
  
With that he flicked his wrist and produced a fistful of daggers in his backhand.  
  
As they faced off, the world seemed to slow. A lone sprite drifted in between them, little particles of light scattering from it as it flew lazily across their path.  
  
Marth grinned, his eyes showing a calculating look. "Impressive."  
  
He threw the daggers at Marth who whipped his cape up from his waist, whirling it around in front of him. The daggers became caught up in the cape, some clattering to the ground, a few sticking in. Marth brought the cape back down, only to see Sheik gone from sight.  
  
A kick in the ribs sent him flying into the stone holding the sword, back first. He heard his armour crunch the marble of the plinth as he hit, knocking the wind from him. The boy known only as Sheik lazily reached behind his waist, and produced two curved blades in each hand. Marth regained his senses and took a gulp of air in.   
  
He jumped to his feet, and Sheik sprinted towards him. Marth held Falchion in a loose grip in front of him, keeping one eye on Sheik's feet, the other on the knives in his hands. As Sheik closed Marth saw the subtle shift in the boy's feet.   
  
The boy leapt into the air, both knives scything down through the air, seeking Marth's head. Sparks flew as both blades hit Falchion, held high over Marth's head. Marth grunted as he forced Falchion up, unbalancing the ninja-like warrior, sending him higher in the air than he wanted to. He landed awkwardly, but rolled.  
  
Marth took advantage of this, and chased after the downed boy, bringing Falchion in an overhead stroke. But the boy was on his knees', one blade stopping Falchion, the other slicing at Marth's abdomen. Marth jumped back, Falchion sliding of Sheik's dagger, the other dagger slicing nothing but air. Sheik lunged forward from his knees', one blade tracking Falchion as it left his personal space, the other thrusting towards Marth neck.  
  
Marth caught the blade on Falchion near the hilt. Sheik brought the other knife around, but Marth tilted Falchion slightly, using its point to catch the blade, sending it slinking down Falchion to meet its partner on the hilt. Marth stepped forward, and brought his elbow around Sheik's arms, still holding on to the daggers. His back facing Sheik, but both the boy's arms to his front, he rammed his elbow into his throat.  
  
The boy staggered back, choking from the blow, dropping his two daggers. Marth kicked both away from the fight, effectively removing them from the arena. He turned to face Sheik again, and was stunned to find a chain thrust at his head at high speed. Falchion glowed slightly and darted up blocking the chain, which coiled around the enchanted blade like a snake. Sheik tugged at the chain, ripping Falchion from Marth's hands.  
  
It clattered to the ground, too far for Marth to reach before Sheik got him. He reached into his gauntlet and pulled out a dagger, his small secondary weapon. Experience had taught him it always did you well to have a spare weapon when no one expected it. For one thing, you lived longer so you could learn from experience. Sheik flicked in his wrist, recalling the chain. Another flick of his wrist produced more daggers in his hand.  
  
Marth made a run for Falchion Sheik's daggers being sent one by one at him, pinging off the stone floor in his wake. There was the clink of metal on metal, and the chain once again darted forward aimed for Marth's legs. Marth dove forward, flying through the air. As he hit the floor, he rolled, throwing his knife at Sheik and grabbing Falchion in one smooth action as he went. But as he rose, Sheik was already on him, having batted the flying knife out of the air like an annoying bug, a long curved sword having miraculously appeared in his hands. The ninja brought the sword down in a two-handed swing, which Marth barely managed to counter.  
  
Sheik took control of the battle, slashing from all sides, Marth desperately blocking and stepping back. But Marth, after years of battle, kept his cool. He whipped his cape up again, causing Sheik to flinch back. It was all the time Marth needed. He fell to the ground and swung his legs around, toppling Sheik. Even before he hit the ground, Marth brought the pommel of Falchion down on his head.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.....  
  
Okay, I'm looking for a pre-reader for this fic, so anyone who wants the job, just say in a review or an e-mail or even on MSN messenger, and let me know.  
  
Best review gets a cookie, by the way... 


	4. 4

true, I do own Smash Bro. Melee. You don't believe me? Well, you can see my name whizz past in the final credits. Yeah. Honestly.  
Ok, so that's not true. But how many of you went and checked? Just to recap, I don't own smash bro melee.  
  
Okay, another short chapter to keep the story going. Not too happy with it myself, but enjoy! Oh and I apologise about the sardine cans. I have no idea where that came from, and I'm not too sure I want to find out.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Marth felt the impact of the blow run up his arm. The pommel struck home, knocking out the wannabe ninja. The boy fell the rest of the way to the ground, various hidden weapons slipping from their holdings, clattering to the ground like a rain of sardine cans.   
  
Marth rose to his feet, and looked down at the almost pitiful form at his feet, the boy's chest rising and falling slowly. He looked at his own hand. What had stopped him? He had intended to cut the boy's head off, but his own hand had betrayed him, shifting the sword slightly so the pommel would hit the boy's head. Lately the killing blow was all he sought for, especially since the war.  
  
But as he looked back at the fight in his memory he saw so many places where a subtle change in his stance would have him killing the boy with relative ease. He surprised himself; he did not know this person, even if their voice was vaguely familiar. Why was his sub-conscious protecting him?  
  
He shrugged it off. No-matter. Now there was no one to stand in his way, his goal to obtain the power that lay behind whatever gate there was left. He kicked away all of the weapons that the boy had dropped, making sure that if the fighter did wake up, he would not be sending any excess violence down his way. Marth strode up to the plinth that held the sword.  
  
The temple was completely black now, a lone sprite flitting around the roof providing the only illumination. Marth's eyes, accustomed to the relative gloom saw the sword, glinting slightly in the darkness. Unlike Falchion, which radiated a sense of tempered strength, this sword seemed to feel old. It was heavy with eons of life, a sword that told you it had seen it all, and was still willing to learn. It filled you with the confidence of millennia old experience.   
  
As Marth brought his hand closer to the grip, Falchion began to glow slightly. Swords were jealous objects, never liking to be replaced. This is why very few people fight with two at one time, both swords are constantly competing for the killing blow, each showing the user that it was best. This of course dos not apply to other blades, such as knives or daggers. Those weren't proud enough. They love nothing more than to congregate in back alleys and snigger at the other more arrogant blades. But a sword's jealousy was merely compounded by the fact it was magical. It gave it a sort of sentience, and so it knew about the fickle nature of humans, and consequently wanted his human to stay away from any other sword.  
  
This was all lost on Marth who felt the sword beckon to him. But, it did not feel like the sword was calling him. Something darker, more sinister was telling him to pull that sword from the stone. Marth did not care. He would have pulled without the beckoning.   
  
He reached out for the sword.   
  
He gripped.  
  
And pulled.  
  
There was surprisingly little resistance.  
  
The world held it's breathe.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Then, the temple became full of excitement.  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
Link rode along the forest tracks. Epona whinnied in complaint against his frequent kicks. He patted her on the neck, whilst keeping a close eye on the forest ground. "I'm sorry girl, but we have to find that ocarina. Zelda would kill me if I lost that thing."  
  
So intent was he on the ground, he did not notice the low branch.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Marth was surrounded by blue light.  
  
Light steaming past him like a river that was so powerful it could move mountains. He tried to fight the current, but it was no use.   
  
He was hurled back like a rag doll, slamming into the ancient temple wall, stress fractures running from his impact.   
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Link rose from the ground and dusted himself off. Bloody stupid branch. Whose bright bloody idea was it to put trees in a damn forest anyway? He looked up to see Epona giving him one of her horse looks. Most horse will look at a human like this. It is a look which tries to tell you that if you are going to ride me, at least have the decency to stay on so we don't have to keep stopping, I mean *really*.  
  
Link glared at his 'faithful' steed and was about to threaten her with immediate withdrawal of all sugar cubes, when a bright blue flash caught his eyes.  
  
Now Link was not the greatest of thinkers, he would never be able to tell you how to integrate an exponential curve and then show you the area underneath the graph, for example. But years of being the Hylain Army's sole member had taught him that bright blue flashes in the middle of the night were not to be ignored.  
  
He hopped on Epona, and set of at a gallop to the source of the light.  
  
He got about two yards before knocking himself out on the same low branch again.  
  
--------------------------------  
  
Marth awoke to the laughter of a mad man. You could tell he was mad. No other kind of person laughed like that. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel like the joke, and the person laughing wanted you, and the people a few miles away, to know it. It is not the kind of laugh you want to hear when you have a semi-concussion from flying into a wall at high speed.  
  
He was on the cool stone floor of the temple. His training took over, and his hand flicked down to check Falchion was still in its sheath, and checking all the straps of his armour were still tightly on. Then, the fact he was a human male took over, and his hand shot down to check his other sword. "Oh thank god," he mumbled.  
  
He rose to his knees to find the source of the laughter. It was a tall man. Scratch that. Big man. Scratch that. Very big man. And he was holding the fallen Sheik in one hand. And he was still laughing.  
  
Marth rose to his feet, the ringing in his head subsiding. "You..., who are you?" he said gaining a little more consciousness with each word.   
  
The man paused his laughter. He looked down at the blue haired teenager, formerly known as a prince. He smiled a cat's smile, the one the common household predator uses when it has just been shown a new toy with a pulse. "I want to thank you, my friend." The way he said friend made you wish you weren't. "You helped release me from my imprisonment, AND brought me the ruler of this realm, on a virtual silver platter. Very commendable."  
  
Marth thought he was still concussed, "What?" The large man lifted the boy in his hands. "But, he's just some assassin sent to kill me.... isn't he?"  
  
The large man laughed. He delicately lifted a finger to the cloth wrapped around the boy's face, and tugged it away. Marth felt his blood run cold. The man then tugged away the rest of the cloth around the 'boy's' head. Golden locks fell from her head.  
  
The man seemed to take some perverse pleasure in the blue haired prince's sudden shock and self-loathing.   
  
"Please, ... put her down..." Marth was sick with guilt. True she had been capable fighter, and probably would have killed him if given the chance, but Marth's upbringing had been to NOT hit girls, no matter how hard they hit you. This had been sensible in the palace. Most of the little girls Marth had met when he was young were princesses, and his father did not particularly want an incident on his hands. As such, Marth tended to treat women as porcelain dolls, easily breakable, like a delicate trade agreement.  
  
The man laughed again. Marth was really beginning to hate that laugh, "'Put her down' he asks. And why would I do that?"  
  
Marth said nothing. He slid Falchion from his sheath, letting the blade scrape along, creating a threatening metallic sound. This was more familiar territory. The guilt had now melted into white-hot anger.   
  
The man laughed again. "So the little man likes to fight does he? Well, don't worry. See? I'll put her down."  
  
She was thrown to one side. Marth watched her fly away with shock. He turned back to see the man had drew a huge blade, which fanned out at the tip. It was almost as long as Marth was tall.   
  
"And now little man? Shall we play?"  
  
"Nothing would please me more, save perhaps your head on a spike." The large man laughed again. "And your laugh really gets on my nerves."  
  
There was no going back now, no backing down. The one-liners had been said.  
  
The man laughed again just to spite him, and charged. Marth knew that he could never win a straight fight with this man. He ran straight towards him as well. Before they hit each other, Marth fell to the ground, and skidded under the man like a baseball player heading for home base. On the other side, he jumped up off his leading foot, slashing down. The large man's blade was already blocking the strike, and both blades crackled with the magical energy released.  
  
They parted, the larger man, spinning around, his large sword, which he wielded with the apparent ease of a willow wand, slashing around at Marth's neck height. Marth ducked under the blow, and watched as the blades momentum carried his opponent arms within striking range. He slashed upwards, aiming to disable one of his enemy's arms. As he closed in a scorcerous blast sent him flying, crashing once again into the opposite wall.  
  
Marth rose to his knees, leaning on Falchion for support. Purple smoke and static discharges still flickered off his body. Marth could feel a few off his ribs break from the force of the blow. He spat out blood. Each breath was painful to take in.  
  
"Who are you!" he shouted from his knees.  
  
The man smiled, and narrowed his eyes. "I am Ganondorf. Future ruler of the world. Although you will not live long enough to see that..."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.....  
  
Author's notes: Bwah ha ha ha ha!! Fear my incredibly bad on liner fightin' talk!! Anyway, told you I wasn't particularly happy with this chapter.  
  
Still looking for a pre-reader though, applicants must notify me via review, e-mail or MSN messenger, or if you really want you can try psychic projection, but my receiver for that has been on the fritz lately.  
  
Let's reply to some reviews now. Ok, just the one then.   
  
Raikou. You really think I'd kill off one of the smash bro characters this early on? I have more imagination than Link riding in on Epona and saving her though, give me some credit. And not Fox just yet. It doesn't seem right to leap from medieval stylie Hyrule to sci-fi adventure Lylat system.   
  
Best review wins a cookie. 


	5. 5

Disclaimer: "CONFESS!! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO BROUGHT SMASH BRO. MELEE TO THIS WORLD ARE YOU NOT?!?!?!" shouted the inquisitor as he withdrew the poker from the fire. "No.... not .... not me..." whispered the broken form of the brassmonki. "If you do not CONFESS! (cough) you shall have this poker shoved in your brass bits!" The brassmonki mumbled a negative. "THEN YOU GIVE ME NO CHOICE!!! I'll give this 50 million pound check to someone else then..."  
  
The screams of the monki were heard long into the night.  
  
In case you did not get the gist of that, I don't own Smash Bro. Melee.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Marth glared at the floor. His anger was apparent to any who looked at him. He rose to his feet, Falchion scoring a thick line into the stone floor, the scrape of steel on stone filling the silent temple. Ganon was impressed at the boy's persistence. It was like he enjoyed the thrill of being shoved into a wall at high speed.  
  
"Why?" said Marth in a voice laden with anger.   
  
"Why what small one?"  
  
"Why, when I need to find help, do people like you turn up." He began to stride towards Ganon, now only the occasional purple flash being given off his armour. His chest still burned from the broken ribs, and every breath was painful in the extreme.  
  
"Every time I find an easy solution to my problems, it's always a damn trap." The pain from breathing merely served to fuel his rage, and Ganon could see the fury building behind the boy's eyes.  
  
"People like you never understand the trouble you cause." He let Falchion scrape along the floor. He could barely summon the strength to lift it anyway. Ganon began to back away from this boy. Marth still had not looked up from the ground.  
  
"You think that war is a game that is played, and when you hurt someone it's scoring points." Scars earned in a battle not long before this fight had been popped open. Fresh blood oozed out of cracks in his armour, leaving a trail of droplets along the floor.  
  
"You treat those in you way as obstacles, not people." He said indicating the heap that was the blonde haired girl. The heap began to shift slightly as she regained a few bits of consciousness.  
  
"And now, you even back away from me, unwilling to finish what you start." Marth knew he could not win. But he had a plan. If only he could hold out long enough. But his feet were sluggish now. He hoped Ganon did not notice the half dead way he shuffled across the cold stone.  
  
"I have known only fighting in my life." He still did not look up from the ground. He had drawn level with the downed girl, the girl he had played a part in hurting. He stopped. This was the right position.  
  
"And now, even though I may die I have to face you." Ganondorf stopped backing away. He had finally noticed how weak the boy had become. He smiled as he realised the boy was simply stalling for time.  
  
"You are rambling boy. You are near dead. I think I shall send you the rest of the way over a few days."  
  
Marth smiled, and whistled under his breath. "You give me no choice, evil man." He summoned all of his strength, and hefted Falchion. It felt like he was wielding an anvil instead of a finely crafted sword. There was the sound of horses hoof beats in the temple. Ganon barely noticed, all his attention on the almost pathetic figure in front of him.  
  
Ganondorf laughed his trademark laugh. "This will be all too eas- what?" The hoof beats now filled the temple, and Ganon turned just in time to see a pure white stallion canon into him. The man went down, the horse trampling him under hoof.   
  
Marth acted quickly. He sheathed Falchion, and used the last of his waning strength to scoop up the semi-conscious girl. He swung himself up onto his faithful horse. The horse seemed to turn on the spot and galloped to the temple entrance, the girl slung unceremoniously across his neck, Marth barely managing to hold on.   
  
As he made his way to the entrance, because even horses enjoy a good joke, he went over the prostrate form of Ganondorf again, even as he was trying to get up. He whinnied in satisfaction as he felt the man's bones give way under his steel shod hooves.  
  
And then they were out, riding hard under starlight. The horse was glad. This was the first time he had got to stretch his legs properly in two weeks. And it was open plain. But his rider seemed to be indicating that he wanted to head towards the forest.  
  
The horse did not mind. It was at least one mile of fields before that, and the horse enjoyed it. The forest was not bad either. Nice open tracks to run freely across. So happy was he that he very nearly neglected to notice that Marth had fallen off.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
She awoke to the sound of crackling embers. She could not remember being in this much pain before. It throbbed across her entire body. Her vision was a little bit blurry, and her head hurt worse than the time Link had dared her to drink an entire case of Goron whisky. Then she asked the immortal question.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"Dunno, I only arrived in this land a few days ago. I thought you could tell me." The voice was male. And it seemed so cold. But the chill was tinged by a sound of compassion. It was vaguely familiar.  
  
She tried to lift herself up, but merely succeeded in finding out she had more injuries on her arms. She gasped from the pain, and heard someone rush over to her. Arms encircled her shoulders, and she let herself be pulled up to a sitting position. A jug was placed to her lips. At first she resisted, remembering the infamous Goron Whisky incident.  
  
"Just drink. It's only water, and I haven't poisoned it."  
  
"And why would you mention poison?"  
  
"Because I was just thinking about how annoying it is I left my poisoning kit at home. Now are you going to drink this or will I have to slice a hole in your throat to get the water in you."  
  
"No need to make threats," she said before gulping down the water greedily. Her vision was beginning to clear, instead of lots of dark blurs, she could see a vaguely human shaped blob. "And who are you?" she asked, wiping the excess water from around her mouth on her sleeve. A few of Link's bad habits were growing on her.   
  
"Well, you probably would remember me given the chance. Let's just say, I'm an old sparing partner."  
  
She finally managed to connect the voice to a face in her head. She panicked, but was no about to let him see that. She recognised him as the fighter in the temple, the oh so bad one she had to stop herself from killing over and over again. "So you were the one in the temple then," she said conversationally, as she slowly reached down her body to find the spare stiletto hidden away where only the most depraved would look for a knife.  
  
"Yes, but I think you might remember me from before that. Actually, come to think of it, you were only young." She felt her vision clear, like a blanket was lifted off her eyes. The boy was seated on a log, a few yards from her. There was a small pile of wood just in front of him, which he was trying to light with a stone and dry leaves. Her questing hands found the knife.  
  
"Oh really?" she asked to keep him off his guard. Everyone at the palace assumed, as she got Link to do all the heavy adventuring, that she was unable to look after herself. But living with the Sheikah tended to toughen you up considerably. She was already searching for the fighter's weapons, eyes darting across the rudimentary camp to locate that sword of his.   
  
"Yeah, I us- damn this fire!" he said as the sparks he lit off the stones failed to light the dried leaves. "Right, I've had enough." In one smooth action, he rose to his feet, Falchion appearing from nowhere in his hands, held high over his head.  
  
Zelda, anticipating the attack leapt up from her position on the floor, the stiletto stabbing straight for his neck, all her pretence at injury now gone. Marth was startled, but years of training kicked in, and Falchion neatly blocked the dagger, cutting it in two. But her sudden attack had caught him off balance, and he fell forward onto Zelda. There was moments confusion, and they both ended up on the floor, Marth lying on top of Zelda.  
  
He grinned, their faces barely inches apart. "Well, nice to see you up and about Princess Zelda."  
  
----------------------------------  
  
Link awoke again. His head hurt worse than the time he had challenged BigGoron to a drinking competition. Now that guy may look big, but when it came to Gerudo Tequila he was a real lightweight. Still managed to out drink Link though, on account of the fact that it took one barrel for him to take the equivalent of one-shot glass.  
  
Epona was standing over him again, stamping her feet impatiently. Her face implied that once a year was probably OK, but twice in one night? Are you sure you should be riding me monkey-boy? I mean, if one little branch can outsmart you, what kind of chance do we have in a forest? Idiot boy-  
  
Link stopped listening, or at least looking. He often found it hard to tell with Epona, whom he felt had more than her fair share of facial expression. He grinned. Perhaps that was why she always had such a long face!   
  
He slapped his forehead. Even in his head that joke sounded lame. Oh well, best get off the floor before something tries to eat me and steal my clothes. He rose to his feet, and tried to remember why he had insisted on galloping into a low tree branch.  
  
Oh damn, that blue light. He leapt on Epona again, who was still ranting with her horse expressions, and galloped off into the night.  
  
About a few seconds later, he rode back, took out his sword and sliced the low branch into kindling.  
  
------------------------------------  
  
Ganondorf awoke. His head hurt worse than the time he had challenged his phantom self to a drinking contest involving Zoran Vodka. He was already pissed before his phantom-self pointed out, that, as a ghost, he could not really get drunk. That had ended up with a considerable amount of pain on both sides, as Ganondorf in his drunken stupor had hurled magic bolts at both his ghost and himself. That double vision will get you every time.  
  
Not only that, but he was sure his back had been trampled to death by a wild horse. Which was partly true, but Marth's horse would be annoyed if you called it wild, and may even kick you.   
  
Wasn't this the reason he had minions? So they could suffer the holy wrath of the good guys and he could get off with a few scratches? As soon as he gathered his scattered forces he was going to start down sizing with extreme prejudice. Like maybe down sizing them at the knees.  
  
What a day.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED....  
  
Drat. This part of Exile was only supposed to be about three chapters. Oh well, time for a multi-book epic (grin).  
  
Nehu, if any Fire Emblem experts are reading this humble fan fic, please let me know. I need all the information I can get on Altea, Marth, Roy, and their game plot lines. This is because of my stubborn commitment to keeping everyone in character, even though i think it would be funny for Marth to turn into a punk rocker and have Zelda go on the game. On the other hand that would make a great fic...  
  
And no, this won't be a Marth/Zelda fic. That would just be too damn easy (grin).  
  
Still looking for a pre-reader guys. Come on, I promise it won't be that hard.  
  
Best review wins a donut. What? I ran out of cookies.  
  
Oh, and I'd like to dedicate this fic to the most useful program on Microsoft Word, the speel-checker. 


	6. 6

Disclaimer: You want me to tell you I don't own it again? (sigh) fine, but seriously this is starting to depress me. I don't own smash bro. etc. etc. yada yada yada, you know what I mean. And if you don't just have a look at previous chapters to find out. If you still don't know what I mean, a) you need help; b) I pity your education system.  
  
Okay, winner of the fabled donut is... what? Oh damn, there's two of you. Okay, lemme just cut this thing in half... there. Okay the two winners are Fangirl Beverly and firemage. Thx for the reviews d00ds.  
  
I'm disappointed with myself. I forgot to mention a sprite in my last chapter. So, there will be two sprite sightings in this one.  
  
Chapter 6   
  
And so it was, that Marth former Prince of former Altea, stood over the still form of his latest victim. Falchion was held high over his head, ready for the final, downward strike. Unflinching, his target offered no resistance. Marth snarled as Falchion began to charge with magical energy. His victim, made no move. Purple light cascaded off Falchion, flowing around Marth's body, a violet liquid fire. Bright light seared from the tip of the enchanted blade as it reached it's full fury. A sprite danced around the blade trying to play with the magical energy that spread off it. Marth screamed into the night "BURN DAMN YOU! BURN!"  
  
He swung down the magical energies of his sword easily cutting the target in two. The sparks from the released energy settled on a few dry leaves, quickly igniting them. With a satisfied grin on his face, Marth dropped Falchion, and delicately placed a few twigs over the smouldering leaves. Gently blowing on them, he placed larger pieces of fuel on the twigs, and soon, a small fire was going.   
  
"There has to be an easier way to make a fire than venting your anger on a rock," said a flat, disapproving feminine voice.   
  
Marth grinned, "Yeah but this is so much more fun." He scooped up Falchion, which was glowing faintly in protest to the fact it was being used as a tinderbox. He sheathed it, and unbuckled his sword belt, which he hung on a tree.   
  
"So how do you know me?" said the voice. Marth turned to the owner, a blonde, slender beauty, who went by the name of Zelda. She was currently perched on a log, wearing a skin-tight ninja suit, which Marth found very hard to ignore. Difficult! Very difficult to ignore.   
  
He sat down heavily on a log. His lungs still burned from the previous fight, and he was sure that was due to the fact his ribs had cracked. Falling off his horse when they had fled did not help matters. And to top it all off, his scars from previous battles had popped open fresh from the force of being thrown into a wall. But on the upside, he had saved the princess, and he couldn't ask for more than that. Save perhaps Ganondorf's head on a pike, but that could all wait until his chest stopped hurting.  
  
He smiled at the woman opposite him, "Back when Altea was still powerful, my father took the family around to all the outlying kingdoms. I suppose it was our version of a holiday. So we went to visit all the royal families of each kingdom, to pay our respects, strengthen alliances, or even, um, enforce certain deals."  
  
"Yes, we used to do that."  
  
"A lot of royals used to. Then things got a little bit complicated to our Eastern borders. Communication dried up. And we were left friendless, against that bast-. But that's a little off topic. But do you remember a visit a long time ago? I think you might have been seven or something..."  
  
The light of recognition went off behind Zelda's eyes, "Oh! I remember now! You must be that blue haired little boy who helped me find... the..."  
  
"Ocarina? You know? You were going on about nightmares or something stupid like that and you said you needed that little blue ocarina. Do you know how much trouble I got in for stealing that thing? It wasn't as if you needed me to either."  
  
"Well I was just a little girl, I didn't know it was free for access by the royal family-"  
  
"Uh-huh. Well, it was partly my fault for being stupid enough to believe you. I mean, evil dark man and lights coming from forests? I'm glad I was just a kid when I heard that story." Zelda remained quiet. "Oh, did I hurt that guy badly? The guy who caught me?"  
  
Zelda remembered that. There had been a lot of commotion coming from the room where the ocarina was kept. She had followed a group of guards that were running in that direction. When they arrived, they saw the young blue haired seven-year-old facing off against Ganondorf, who was amused by the little kid's courage. Little Marth only had a toy wooden sword, but he was unwilling to back down.   
  
Even as Ganondorf laughed at the little boy, Marth had run up to him, striking Ganon's shins with enough force to topple him over. Had it not been for the guards that had appeared in the doorway, no doubt Marth would have made it scott-free. As it was, the swift hand of retribution fell on Marth's backside, and Zelda had been confined to her room for asking him to do it.  
  
"Um, speaking of ocarinas, do you know a blonde wannabe archer in the forest? Wear's green if that's any help."  
  
"Who? Link?"  
  
"Um, yeah, could you give this back to him?" He tossed her the blue instrument he had stolen off Link earlier that day.   
  
Zelda sighed, "Why do you have it?"   
  
"Um..."  
  
"You stole it." It was not a question. She knew he had stolen it since he heard him playing it in the temple. It was a pity that Link was so trusting, but to be fair, even Zelda found herself trusting Marth. Despite the fact he had tried to kill her and doomed her people.*  
  
Marth could not answer her. Once long ago he would not even considered stealing it. But having your country and people burned in front of you can change a man. And Marth knew that was just an excuse, and he had no right to take it. But the glimmer of hope the blonde teen had given him was too tempting to leave behind. He knew that Link would have been dead set against him using the power, and so, Marth had let himself take the ocarina.  
  
And now... some other country was in trouble. Because of him. Toying with things he did not understand. Bugger that... He rose to his feet sharply, and gasped as the pain from his chest coursed through him. Zelda looked at him with a calculating eye.  
  
"Are you injured?"   
  
"Yes, but I'll get it looked at later. Right now I have some business to atten- argh!" Zelda began experimentally prodding him in the chest. Marth tried to back away, but she muttered a few words of power and his legs locked into place.  
  
"What are you doing?!" he screamed. She placed her hand on his armour, and closed her eyes. A faint light seemed to glow under her hand for a moment, and Marth felt the pain in his chest lessen, until it faded away into nothingness.  
  
"There. All better now."  
  
"What the hell did you do to me?" he said calmly, feeling around his ribcage. She smiled faintly.   
  
"I healed you. It wasn't hard, just a few broken ribs, and the occasional scar."  
  
Marth offered a weak grin, "Well, thank you. Now if you don't mind, I have to go." He whistled, and his horse came trotting up behind him. He jumped into the saddle, then smirked at Zelda. "My lady," he said, nodding a farewell. He kicked his horse's flanks sending the well-trained steed into a gallop.   
  
Zelda watched him leave.   
  
And watched him ride back to pick up Falchion.  
  
---------------------------------  
  
Link wandered the streets of the market town outside the palace. He was sure the blue light had come from here, and there was not the usual flock of dogs that regularly plagued the peaceful little town at night. And it was quiet. Very quiet.  
  
Even the owls had left the place, and Link was certain that if he went into a house, the owners would be hiding behind the table, crossbow held in shaky hands. There was something in the air; something that just felt like it was building up. He felt that if he looked closely, he could see the air fizz with anticipation. Not that he was a coward, but even the bravest of heroes get worried at the sight of fizzing air.  
  
He heard the drawbridge clatter open. Just audible over the noise of the chains, a horse brayed defiance at the storm... when did the storm begin? Link ducked into the shadows, his bow already up and pointed in the direction of the gates. A curtain of rain spread across the road, as Hyrule's weather patterns shifted to allow for the momentous occasions. Link idly remembered when it use to do this for him, and how much fun he had, running back and forth, watching the sun go down and up.  
  
He looked out, and saw a teal haired teen riding on a pure white stallion, galloping through, not even trying to shield himself from the sleeting rain. Gale force winds blew his blue steel cloak out behind him as he rode, thunder cracking every other time a hoof hit the cobbles of the street, the horse protesting at the sparks as his steel shod feet struck the wet stone.  
  
Link let the string on his bow go slack. He recognised this one as Marth, the mercenary he had met earlier that day. But he had only just arrived in Hyrule, how could he already have caused enough trouble to warrant such environmental attention? He decided to follow him. It was the quickest way in his mind to find out just what the hell was going on, why he was not involved, and where Zelda was. It was generally a given that he would have to save Zelda.  
  
He stepped out into the storm, and followed the clattering hooves.  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Ganondorf paced up and down the temple. He was waiting. The hero always came along to try and slay the evil monster, and Ganondorf had long worked out that he was the evil monster. Having a blonde haired, pointy-eared tree hugger cut the better half of you off will tell you things like this.  
  
But now he had the upper hand. The only sword he feared the sting of was even now, firmly wedged into a temple wall. He wandered over to it, stuck forlornly in between the marble slabs that made up the temple, at about shoulder height for the average Hylain. He kicked it, and watched with glee as it twanged back and forth. Such a potent weapon, reduced to the evil madman's child's toy. He loved the perverse irony of it.  
  
But he would be here soon. The blonde one. Whatever his name was, Lank or something. He was a fairly major thorn in his side, and yet he barely knew his name. He shrugged; he had only met the damn kid twice, once when he was just a gutsy, idiot child, and another time when he had tried to kill him. You would think that he would remember him, if only for that.  
  
Ganondorf looked up. Ahh, a storm was brewing outside. That meant he would be here soon. He vaguely wondered what sword he would be using, since his weapon of choice was here. He made his way to the centre of the temple, positioning himself with his back to the door, posing in a brooding fashion on a small raised area in the floor. He would win this time. He had the power to rule once, he would do it again. Only this time, he would tear off the little blondeys head off. Link! That was his name! Ha!  
  
The storm outside began to roar louder, hail pelting the stained glass windows high in the roof. Soon now...  
  
There was a dull rumble, and Ganon sensed a surge of magical energy behind him.  
  
The temple doors exploded inwards, a bright purple flash blinding any onlooker as the twenty foot high double doors flew half way across the room, burnt to cinders before they even hit the ground, purple smoke and green fire tingling the embers as they spread themselves across the floor. Lightning shattered the glass windows, letting the full fury of the storm outside tear its way inside.  
  
A figure on a horse was visible, still standing in the rain and hail. His sword was held limply at his side, still glowing from the energy spent. His cape was blown to the right, flapping in the gale. Lightning glinted off of his armour, sword and tiara. The pure white stallion reared, braying for all it was worth. A lone sprite was whizzing around his head, casting shadows in all directions.  
  
Ganondorf smiled. Predictable fool. Purple smoke collected around his fist as he filled it with foul scorcerous magic. His back was still to the new comer when he spoke. "And so we meet again. You wish another battle?"  
  
He turned slowly. "And so you come riding on your horse to fight me. Well I remember you, and I know how you fight, and you are without your precious Master Sword now. You will die."  
  
He was now facing the newcomer, but his eyes had closed out of anticipation, "But not before I have a little fun..."  
  
His eyes flew open, "PREPARE TO FEEL PAIN LI- Who the hell are you?!"  
  
TO BE CONTINUED...  
  
*(Ah, bless his little blue haired mop - Monkey-san)  
  
A. Notes: Good news, bad news. Good news, I've got more cookies. Bad news, they're not big enough to share. So best review wins a cookie, and no dual winners. Apologies for not loading sooner. Got banned for a week for putting something in the wrong category. Next chapter will be posted in two days, just enough time for me to decide the cookie winner.  
  
Once again, I make my futile plea for both a pre-reader, and some information on Fire Emblem. Thanks to RPGenius and Iris Amergin for their help in finding FE info, to sprite who mercilessly tormented me until I got this right, and to Monkey-san for laughing in the right places. 


	7. 7

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own, not getting paid, don't sue.  
  
Ganondorf smiled. Predictable fool. Purple smoke collected around his fist as he filled it with foul scorcerous magic. His back was still to the new comer when he spoke. "And so we meet again. You wish another battle?"  
  
He turned slowly. "And so you come riding on your horse to fight me. Well I remember you, and I know how you fight, and you are without your precious Master Sword now. You will die."  
  
He was now facing the newcomer, but his eyes had closed out of anticipation, "But not before I have a little fun..."  
  
His eyes flew open, "PREPARE TO FEEL PAIN LI- Who the hell are you?!"  
  
And the story continues...  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Ganondorf eyed the newcomer. He was that fool of a boy that had freed him from that accursed sacred realm. He smiled. He did not like this one, and he would serve as a nice warm-up to his final battle with the 'hero of time'. He was glad he would have the chance to exact his revenge on the idiot who had not only stolen his best chance at taking the tri-force part from Zelda, but had also got muddy hoof prints on his only cape.  
  
The blue haired intruder trotted his horse into the temple, his sword glowing brighter with every inch he came closer to Ganondorf. His expression was not that of fear. Not that of even anger. Marth had come for one reason. Not to hate, or to be afraid. He had come to end this particular form of evil any way he could. Such a duty was above anger or fear. But it was one he carried out willingly.  
  
He dismounted his horse. Even though the extra height would have given him and advantage, he had always believed in honour, even against evil. Facing Ganondorf mounted was unfair in his mind, and therefore not honourable. It did occur to him that Ganon was far stronger than him, and had more tricks up his sleeve than gambling conjurer, but still, he did not feel as though it would be fair.  
  
Ganondorf smiled as the fool gave up the one thing that could have made this a fair fight. He drew his large, vicious sword, which fanned out at the end. The purple smoke that was on his hand ran up the blade, coiling around it a like a snake, imbuing it with the same power that he used to make his scorcerous blasts. This would either be quick, or he would toy with the boy. Both probable outcomes suited him.  
  
Marth pushed his horse away, which trotted off to wait quietly in the corner of the temple. He would have gone outside, but it was pissing it down. There were two ways this could go in his mind. One, the blue haired one killed the scary looking big guy with all the special effects on his sword, which meant he would get a load of sugar lumps. Or, and the horse thought this would be more probable, the pip squeak would become an interesting smear on the floor, which meant no more scampering around in the wilderness. Both outcomes suited him.  
  
They stood there for a while, each one waiting for the other to make the first move.   
  
And waiting.  
  
Waiting.  
  
Marth took one step closer to Ganondorf. And all hell broke loose.  
  
---------------------  
  
Link watched the fight, perched in an opening left by an exploded window. It was quite impressive really, watching both participants waste the special effects budget of several movies on each other. He was fairly impressed by the Marth's persistence. He winced as the blue haired one was blasted into the wall again.   
  
Link was confused. Last time he had seen Ganondorf he was a big scary thing with two massive swords. That, and the last time he had seen him he was either dead or on his way there. But he had been locked away in the sacred realm. Why in Din's name was he out of his magical jailhouse. Hell, it was bad enough the first time trying to put him behind those bars.  
  
He watched as Marth managed to get in another good hit on to Ganondorf, cutting deep with his blade, a small smile of satisfaction on his face. It didn't last long. Ganondorf kicked him, flames exploding from the impact.  
  
Even though he was the bad guy, Link's money was on Ganondorf.  
  
--------------------  
  
Marth slammed into the wall, yet again. He was beginning to think this could get repetitive. The problem was, he just could not get close enough to deal the real damage. The evil guy just had to many powerful magic strikes on his side. He rose to his knees. This was getting to be a far too familiar position for a prince of Altea.  
  
"Aww, fallen so soon pathetic one?"  
  
Marth rose shakily to his feet. "Not.. just... yet..." he managed. He was tired. Falchion was still full of vigour for the kill, but there were only so many times Marth could be thrown into the wall before it began to take its toll.  
  
"HA! You are finished boy. After I take your skull, I shall visit my dear Princess Zelda." Ganondorf saw the expression on Marth's face change from exhaustion to anger. "Oh, so is this what it takes for you fight your best?"  
  
Marth took a steady step forward. His lip was bleeding. His armour was dented and the ornate metalwork charred by foul magic. His cape had been torn to shreds by the constant barrage of blows from Ganon's sword. He was fairly certain he had broken another rib, but his breathing was not hindered. He wondered why they had allowed such a powerful evil to exist at all.  
  
Now, it was just protecting this land that was his goal. He was going to rid the world of this evil forever, and not even his death was going to stop him. Stupid words he knew, but he knew in his heart he meant everyone of them. He took another stronger step forward.  
  
The pain of his people would be on these innocents if he let this abomination loose on the world. His people... even now, in this distant land he could hear the cries of the dying. He could hear the whining of orphaned children, brutally slain by careless slave masters. He could hear the desperate pleas of women surrounded by leering soldiers. This is what men like Ganondorf brought to the world.  
  
He took another step forward. Ganondorf raised an eyebrow. The kid had taken a beating that any man in the world would be a crumpled heap on the floor. Fear began to rise in him. This blue-eyed boy was obviously in possession of an incredible amount of strength. No wonder this was a prince among men...  
  
Marth stumbled. He fell to the ground. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and uneven.  
  
Ganondorf grinned. The again, maybe today was his lucky day. He stomped over to the unconscious form. The boy was bleeding in several places, the red staining his dark blue cape, giving it a darker hue than it should be. He still clutched Falchion in his hand. Ganondorf reached down, and gently took the divine blade in his hand. It seemed to glow slightly, as if in protest to the evil aura that surrounded him. This amused him.  
  
He kicked the fallen prince, just to be sure; he strutted over to the wall where he had driven in the Master Sword. It would give him even more perverse satisfaction to have both the weapons of his enemies. He took a swipe at a sprite that was buzzing angrily around his head, sending it flying into a wall. Although... damn. He had finished off the boy before getting his name again. He vaguely remembered him telling him his name before the battle, but to Lords Of All Hyrule, such as himself, the whining of a minion were hardly worth... his... time...  
  
The Master Sword was gone. A perfect sword shape gap was left in the wall where it had been driven in. His eyes widened. This was probably not good.   
  
There was the faint sound of a bowstring protesting under tension. Ganondorf turned slowly to face the noise. And was greeted by the face of his nightmares. That blonde haired pointy-eared freak that had taken all he had fought so hard for. That green clad fool who had dared to stand before him, and had been the only one to send him to that hellhole of a prison. The blue-eyed warrior who had an arrow pointed at his chest.  
  
The arrow was glowing, light streaks streaming back from the head, pulsing in smooth circular patterns. He had felt the kiss of those arrows. How they had stunned him with the sickening feeling of pure light.   
  
The knight of the forest's face was set in one of concentration, not allowing for even a momentary lapse in his targeting of Ganondorf. Ganon's shoulders slumped. He let go of Falchion, letting it clatter to the ground. The sound echoed in the now silent temple. Even the storm that had raged throughout the fight had left. There was no noise, save the shallow breathing of the fallen noble, the faint shimmering sound given off by the magic arrow, and the echoes of the clattering sword.  
  
"So, you have finally arrived."  
  
The boy said nothing.  
  
"No last words for your old enemy?"  
  
The boy shook his head, never letting his eyes off his target.  
  
"No pointless gloating?"  
  
The boy raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You think I will let you win without a fight?" Purple smoke laced around his fist.  
  
The boy pulled slightly tighter on his bowstring. His eyes narrowed. There was the merest suggestion of a smirk on his lips.   
  
And released the arrow.  
  
Time seemed to slow, which was not an odd occurrence in this particular temple. Ganon watched with mounting fear as the arrow sped along a straight trajectory towards his chest. He tried to summon an energy ball to deflect it. But the way the light seemed to drop away from the fountaining tip of the arrow was mesmerizing. His arms just felt limp. He could barely summon the strength to even breathe. Heh. The great Ganondorf, struck by the beauty of an arrow.  
  
The arrow hit him.  
  
Light seemed to encapsulate him, stunning everything from his head to his fingers.  
  
Link leapt forward, his bow cast aside, the Master Sword slinking out of his scabbard with a silken sound laden with the promise of metallic violence. Ganon saw the first blow come down. He felt the magic blade rip into his chest, tearing apart bones and muscle. The blade left burning fire as it tore open his chest, spraying blood across the temple floor.  
  
The second blow opened his body from his shoulder, skimming to skim just close enough to snap ribs apart, but not deep enough to damage his lungs. There was a strange sense of peace as the sword left his side just above his pelvis. More of his blood graced the temple floor, but he was beyond caring now.  
  
A third, and final blow struck Ganon in the chest. A simple thrust, the divine blade burying itself up to the Hilt in his body. He felt it break through the skin on his back, the blood soaking into his cloak.  
  
He did not even feel the sword slide out of his body. He was numb. The totalness of his defeat was made clear to him by that single arrow. There was no point in fighting the inevitable now. He stretched his neck out beckoning the final blow.  
  
It failed to come. Ganondorf looked up into the pitying eyes of his executioner. He had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut, that the boy would let him live. Another decade or two stuck in that place. Never dying. Just trapped. Behind that elusive curtain. Or maybe that feeling was just the blood running from his wounds.  
  
Link shook his head sadly, and sheathed the Master Sword. He stepped over to Marth, and hoisted him onto his back, and strode out of the temple. His duty was done. He had no other plans for Ganondorf.  
  
Ganondorf mentally screamed. Foolish boy! He would die here slowly now; bleed to death on their precious temple's floor. Or the sages would come. Heal him somehow. Seal him away for the rest of eternity.  
  
There was the clip clop of hooves on marble. The horse had been forgotten by the humans. He had waited quietly in the corner for the fight to be over. He had watched the pointy-eared one wrench the sword form the stone. He had watched the entire minute long scene of the elvish one hacking away at the big man. And he was stunned to see him walk away.  
  
The horse cantered over to the fallen dictator. He shook his mane and whinnied a bit.   
  
He wanted to tell the man that those two teenagers were different from him and the horse. He wanted to say they saw things in a different way to most people. They saw the good in people, even if it wasn't there. They could never bring themselves to end that chance at goodness by killing a man on the ground, no matter how many innocents he had slain.  
  
Oh, of course they would hack their grisly way through an army or two to save something, but every person they killed there was not real murder. It was more like an accident. The soldier they were facing knew what they were getting into, had trained to use a weapon and was more than happy to use it. Then it just became a matter of chance who happened to get killed. That was how they got through their lives with so much blood on their hands.  
  
But you and me, we are normal. We see the danger in everyone. We don't hold back if an enemy is on the ground, because we know as soon as we turn our backs, he'll be the one shoving the sword in. Because we both know, that no matter what, an average human will always get back up, no matter how many times they've been beaten down, just so he or she can get the final blow in.   
  
And you forgot that today. Which is why you are on the floor now. Bleeding. Waiting to be imprisoned again, so you can come back in a few years and put the final blow in, no matter how many times you have to get back up. Because you are normal. And normal basically means when the midden hits the windmill anybody can be a down and dirty bastard. Which is why I have to do what I must to make you stay down, despite what those other two might have thought.  
  
But, he was only a horse. He snorted and whinnied. He hoped the big man got the message. He reared up, hooves ready to come down.  
  
He brayed a horses war cry. Horses knew about how to deal with people like Ganon. They spent much of their time running from foes, but when their foes fell to the ground nothing would stop them from killing them. Because not even a horse can run forever. And somewhere, sometime, the foe must be stopped.  
  
As his hooves came down, the horse caught a glimmer of understanding in the big mans eye's.  
  
*****  
  
A/ Notes: Due to high demand, next book will include Fox McCloud, and a bit of romance probably later on. Depends when she decides to make her appearance. This does mean an increduble ammountof work to shift from a medieval setting to a space age one, but what the hell, should be one hell of a ride.  
  
Winner of cookie is galaxysong9, for being the newest reviewer.  
  
Okay guys and gals, running low on faith here, I'm wondering if anyone is going to volunteer to be my pre-reader. There is a perk, honest. If you agree to be my pre-reader you get a mention at the bottom saying 'Pre-read by ...' . Not enough? How about a guaranteed cookie? Donut? 50 quid per pre-read?   
  
Thanks to sprite and Monkey-san for making me change the apocalyptic, Marth-goes-nuts-and-god-like, big crowd pleaser fireworks and general tremble in fear ending. But frankly, I think this is better. 


	8. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Today's guest disclaimist: some barrister I grabbed off the street!

My client wishes the reader, and any secondary information receivers (inclusive of family, friends, and pets), to know, for a given state of knowledgeability, that my client, the aforementioned Brassmonki (a.k.a That funky monki), whilst owning a copy and, subsequently, consumer rights to the electronic software designed by a multinational firm and manufactured domestically, my client does not openly or by act of neglecting facts lay claim to any characters, sub characters, places, place names, regions, equipment or other trade marked and/or copy righted articles or persons listed in this fan fiction. Ergo, any complaint from manufacturer, designer or any law provision will result in immediate removal from public viewing. Help help, he's got me here at gun point. Call the poli-

I apologise for the lameness but I needed something to kick start my writing and to cover a few of the plot lines I forgot to set up. So here it is, my last stab in the realm of Hyrule and a really lame attempt at angst.

Epilogue: The Author's Last Stab!

Marth awoke.

It took him two milliseconds to regret this. His body was on fire, and for some reason his eyes were poking daggers into his fore brain. But not only was there the fire playing merry hell up and down his body, his bones were engaging in the kind of dull ache that they always go into to dissuade you from causing the body to go through pain again. The bones knew this was futile, but ache they would in the hopes the owner of the body would give up adventuring and settle for chartered accountancy.

Amidst this cocktail of sensations, Marth's singular question was, 'Why am I still here?' Not that he was complaining, but when you have been left at the mercy of a madman you don't expect to wakeup again. You did kind of expect the agony, but you expected a lot more death than pain.

It was a while before he summoned up the courage to open his eyes. He knew full well what would happen when he did. You always got it when you woke up in the state he was now. But he knew he couldn't stay like this. He opened his eyes.

Searing light burnt into his eyeballs, burning straight past his retina into his mind. He slammed his lids shut again against the pain, thinking it was a stupid plan to open his eyes when he knew what was going to happen.

"Oh, you're awake then."

Marth's pain wrapped mind distinguished the voice as female. It was a nice surprise, considering he was expecting insane evil sorcerer and maniacal laughing. All things considered he preferred a nurse to an arch villain, even if said nurse were to poke needles in him. At least he could expect to go out feeling better than coming in.

"Yeah I'm awake," he spoke through gritted teeth. The pain was really starting to get to him.

"Better be a little nicer Altea, you're not very popular here at this moment." The voice was imperious, and full of vehemence. Marth was starting to wonder if his initial assumption of nurse was more than a little off.

"Sorry," he grumbled, "Just a little agitated from being tossed around the temple like a rag doll."

"Uh huh."

Marth tried opening his eyes again, this time with more success. Instead of pain there was just a big bright blur. "Incidentally, what's with calling me by my country's name?" he asked, trying to gain back the initiative in this conversation.

"Because you are all that is left."

There was a long pause.

"Harsh."

"At least I didn't release the greatest evil ever to descend on Hyrule and then fail to destroy it."

"I gave it my best shot," Marth shot back defensively.

"And you're best wasn't good enough. No wonder Altea fell under your rule..."

There was an even longer pause now.

The pause continued for some time.

The pause went into a full blown moment of silence.

"I hope you know there are only two reasons why I don't kill you now."

The pause departed this world, satisfied with a job well done.

"One, it is my policy not to allow harm to come to women."

"And the other?" the female voice said, a little more hesitantly.

"I can't see a bloody thing."

"Oh, you mean the healing spells haven't worked yet?" Marth felt someone's hands press against his chest, and for a second, the big white blur in front of him flashed a little brighter. The fire across his body vanished, and the dull ache lessened to a slight throbbing sensation which he could only feel if he thought about it. He blinked, his vision clearing the instant his eyes opened.

To see Zelda sitting in front of him, eyes burning holes in his own. He was a little shocked to see such coldness there, but to tell the truth, he wasn't surprised. After all, he had left her in the middle of a forest in the dead of night with nothing but a fire to keep her safe. Oh, and he had doomed her kingdom to unspeakable evil and damnation for eternity. He matched her gaze with a blank expression, letting the mask born of years in the Altean political arena descend on him.

The room was a simple affair, triangular in shape, with a bed pushed up with it's head against one wall, a door in the other wall, and a small plain window hacked out of the remaining wall. The dull glass of the window still let enough light in to give Marth some discomfort, and the combination of brilliant white bed sheets was threatening to blind him once again. It was clear to Marth that this was a castles infirmary.

Zelda put everything she had into the glare. It surprised her at how little there actually was. Here was the man who had attacked her in her own kingdom, had knocked her unconscious and had put her people in danger of Ganondorf, and she had to force herself to feel slightly annoyed. Maybe it was the way he had nearly killed himself trying to put things right. Or maybe it was because she remembered the foolish little boy who had done his best for a silly little girl all those years ago.

There was a polite, yet firm cough. The staring match was broken, with Zelda glancing away from the cougher eyes fixed on the floor. Marth turned his head to see the green clad blond he had stolen an item from.

"Not meaning to interrupt anything," he said, his expression forcibly unreadable, "But I just came to see how he was doing," indicating to Marth.

"He's fine Link," Zelda responded.

"Really?" Link asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Yes."

Before another long pause could descend on the tense situation, Marth cut in, "Um, purely out of curiosity, why aren't I dead?"

"I dragged you back out of the temple."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Yeah, no trouble," Link replied absent mindedly, eyes locked on Zelda, who for some reason was still giving the floor the closest scrutiny she could muster. "But next time you come into my country I'd be grateful if you didn't return my generosity by robbing me."

"Um, sorry about that, but I was kind of desperate." The tension in the room was very near to breaking point. All in the room had a feeling that if the tension snapped there would be flying bits of masonry everywhere.

Marth was a little confused. He could understand the tension in the room was because of him, that much was clear. And if that was the case, which it most certainly was, why in god's name was Link giving Zelda the evil eye? Surely he should be the one receiving the hardest of stares he'd seen anyone give anyone.

A polite knock at the door broke the threatening silence, "Excuse me your highness, your highness and milord, but his majesty has requested an audience with his highness."

All looked on momentarily stunned by the fusillade of titles. "Which highness?" Zelda finally asked.

"That one," the servant said, indicating Marth.

---------------------------------

"... and that is why, your majesty, I have come to ask you to honour the alliance of my father's." Marth had just recounted the story of his county's conquest by their powerful enemy. "I would like you to join once again under the old banner and fight against our common foe."

The king of Hyrule sat in his throne, chin resting on folded hands, staring Marth straight in the eye. Marth himself was kneeling before him, Falchion in the care of a guard outside the throne room. A multitude of courtiers were watching the Prince make his plea, a few giving disapproving looks, a few already formulating ways in which they could turn this to their advantage.

Link was there amongst the hub bub of dukes and aristocracy glancing at the blue haired teen and at Zelda, who for some reason refused to look directly at the prince. Zelda herself was just off to the side of the throne, standing with her face to the ground, furtively taking glances at Marth whenever she sensed Link's gaze was off of her.

This was all lost on Marth, who forced himself not to swallow. This was a critical moment. If he showed one sign of weakness now, any indicator of doubt and the king would simply say-

"No."

- just like that. Er... "What?"

"Your father is dead, and you have nothing to offer us for our aid. The Alliance of the Free Realm's died long ago, it had served it's purpose."

"But-"

"You would do the same in our place Altea."

"But you must-"

The king held up his hand to silence Marth. "I wish for a private audience with the prince."

----------------------------------

As with all times when a person is told to leave a room as someone wants privacy, the throne room was surrounded by the evicted courtiers, all nonchalantly holding glasses to doors and walls trying to catch glimpses of the conversation inside. It was agreed amongst the eavesdroppers that it was in the country's best interests for them to be there, but should anyone ask they were not there, and neither were you.

Link and Zelda, however, had a far more effective method of eaves dropping. When they had been ushered out by the King's bodyguard, they had each given each other a knowing glance and had made their separate ways to a small room in the lower regions of the castle. In this room was a divining pool, which they used to keep tabs on the entire of Hyrule, right from the spirit temples to the lowliest farmer's daughters bedroom. You can argue amongst yourselves who used it for which purpose. But for now, the two were hunched over the pool intent on the small flickering image in it's waters. However, there was a painfully obvious gap between the two.

"You know Zelda, you should really get the sound quality on this improved."

"Shh, I can't hear what they're saying."

"My point exactly..."

"Oh be quiet! Damn, I've missed that now..."

"Missed what?"

"Marth just said something about honour of Hyrule, and I think my father has just told him that no honour is brought to those who fight for a cause not worth fighting for."

"Well, he has a point..."

"Um... Marth has just tried to remind father about the trade agreements they have- not a wise move."

"Why not?"

"Because we haven't traded with Altea in about three years. Which he just told Marth. He doesn't look too happy with the answer."

"His own fault for not trading."

"I guess... sounds like he's trying a different approach now. He's trying to remind my Father of the time's Altea had come to Hyrule's aid during the Great War." They both remembered that war. The entire continent had to unite to defeat another great power. There had been victory for them, but at the cost of many lesser nations.

"But didn't we save Altea just as often?"

"Yes we did. And that's what my father has told Marth... hmm."

"Hmm?"

"Shhhh, this is interesting..."

-----------------------------

"You have no idea what we were up against your majesty," Marth warned.

The king shrugged off his warning, "I'm sure it was no greater than any other outside threat we've had."

"No, this was worse. They were far more powerful than we could have possibly imagined, and they moved incredibly fast. I've never seen a foe match their re-deployment speed, or the rate at which they churned out soldiers. It was like a storm, we just couldn't stop them!" Marth shouted, losing his princely cool against the King's lack of response.

"Where Altea has failed, Hyrule shall stand firm." The king replied sternly.

"You FOOL! Nothing could stand against them, nothing! Hyrule will be a barely noticed barrier, shrugged off as easily as you do your own treaties!" Marth roared.

The king leapt out of his throne enraged, "How dare YOU raise your voice to me! You who have come begging at my feet for an army! You who had the arrogance to threaten my country to save your own failure of realm!"

"Hyrule will fall! Altea was just the start! They won't stop until they have conquered the entire continent, until all of our people are lying bloody in the fields. We have to fight back now! Before we lose everything! Can't you see that?"

---------------------------

The argument did not last long. It became painfully clear to Marth as the day drew on that he would receive no help from this country. So now he was kitting up his horse who was stubbornly refusing to let him do so. He had received two kicks already just clipping on a saddle bag. Apparently his noble steed was not happy about having to set off on the open road again.

Marth didn't care. Right now he just wanted to put some distance between him and this blighted country. He had no doubt that it would crumble like a dry cookie as soon as the enemy knocked on it's borders. Then that fool would realise his folly. But he was not angry. Ok, just a little bit angry, but he was far more frustrated than angry.

His people were now under he rule of the enemy. He would never forget that. As soon as he did, he would simply become a drifter. And he had no doubt he would gather together a smallish band of warriors and carve himself a small realm to replace the one taken from him. That's what all leaders did when they forgot what they were leading. It frustrated him to see such a dark and pathetic future in front of him.

But the main reason he was frustrated was far more simple than that. He could see the fate of this world. To be over taken by the stronger enemy already taking up residence in Altea. To be bought, to have the life leeched from it, or to simple be trampled out of the way. It was exactly what happened to the only other federation to share the continent with the Alliance of the Free Realms. They had been ripped apart, portions of their land sold off to other countries. Even those that remained loyal to their old ways were little more than principalities tied to other masters.

It would happen here, and the next country, and the next country, the chance for any reasonable defence diminishing with each border crossed, until they were nothing left but a memory carved into stone wall, their accomplishments forgotten, the people unmourned. He never dreamed such a fate would befall him, especially now, after he had fought for so long. If other nations acted like Hyrule, then hope was lost before they had even tried.

"Leaving?" called a soft feminine voice from the stable door.

Marth tried an artificial smile, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Kind of hard to stay in a place where the King has to restrain himself from executing you."

"He's not a bad man..." Marth turned to see who was talking to him. Moonlight reflected off blonde hair, the gentle blue light lazily highlighting a purple and white dress, glinting off a circlet set in the flowing hair.

"Well, maybe as a daughter would see her father."

Zelda's response came back bitter, "And you would act different had you met a thief bringing back the greatest threat in living memory to your country?"

Marth flinched, "Okay, maybe I'd be the same way."

She softened, taking a few tentative steps closer to Marth, who resumed his preparations for his trip. "It was... good to see you again Marth."

"Likewise princess. It's always nice to have a reminder of more carefree days."

"Not quite what I meant," she mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. By the way, you don't have to use my title."

Marth smiled, securing a saddle bag full of provisions, "Nothing dies harder than etiquette drills princ- er, Zelda."

"I suppose. I never got much formal training for that though; most of my life was spent skulking in shadows."

"Yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that..."

"Don't bother. It's a long, complicated story, and you wouldn't believe half of what I told you."

"I see." Marth tightened his last strap. As he turned to offer his final farewell to Zelda, he suddenly noticed how close she had gotten to him. Very close. Uncomfortably close. The battle hardened Altean felt himself take an involuntary step back- something he hadn't done since he was a boy training with his sword. Unfortunately his noble steed blocked any retrovade manoeuvres he might attempt.

His close proximity to the princess allowed him to fully appreciate what was going on. Zelda was giving the floor her full attention blushing up a storm, her hands held forlornly in front of her- the universal pose for shy girl with something important to say. Marth's mind quickly recapped every memory he had of her, looking for any sign that foreshadowed what was going on now, whilst his body got to grips with the situation, nervous sweat beading on his brow.

"Marth?"

"Uh, yes? Princess? Of Hyrule?" he said, more to remind himself of diplomatic complications that could arise from the following situations.

"Please don't be so formal..."

"I'm... sorry." Which was true. He was sorry he hadn't just leapt on his horse and made for the forest.

"This is very hard for me." She took another step forward, her blush impossibly deepening.

Marth swallowed. He didn't need this right now, and not just because she was the princess. A girl with a crush was not something he felt he should deal with on top of his obligation to his country. There was too much at stake, too many lives depending on him to get caught up in a little romance.

Placing his hands firmly on her shoulders, he gently put some space between them. Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, so that his fringe kept his eyes in shadow, he spoke in a steady, calm, and above all, understanding voice. At least that was what he hoped. "Zelda, I know what you are thinking, and I know you've considered all the implications this would have, all the effects that would arise. You're not some silly milk maid who has fallen for the rich noble image, and I know that you really do believe in what you're thinking.

"But I can't. Not now, I have too many battles ahead of me, too much war to survive. It wouldn't be fair to drag you into all that. Another time, another place, then yes, I would leap at the chance you were about to offer. But my people demand differently." _'And besides, your father would kill me,'_ he added to himself.

He let go of her, climbing onto the saddle of his horse, who rolled his eyes at the strangeness of humans. The horse trotted obediently out of the stable, braking into a gallop as soon as fresh wind hit his face.

Marth was grateful to his horse. He was well out of earshot before Zelda started to sob.

---------------------------

Link nodded to himself, walking away from the stables, trying to ignore the pathetic sound of Zelda crying. It broke his heart to see her fall for that damned Altean. It was as though he had saved her time and time again for nothing.

Although saving Hyrule was a large part of why he fought Ganondorf, he was too honest not to say that the fact Zelda was in danger was the biggest factor in what motivated him to pick up a sword. _'And she should know that by now...'_

He stopped, casting a glance back to the stable. There had been a time in his youth when he had wandered beyond Hyrule's borders. Growing up adventuring had taught him some harsh lessons, and over the years he had grown weary of the world beyond the Lost Woods. Even though he was just an ocarina song away from his friend, that had not been enough to keep the ache at bay. Only seeing Zelda's smile as he rode back into town had been able to soothe him.

But now, she had chosen someone else, and Link was too proud to serve as second best to anyone. He had fought too hard and too long to just accept that with a nod of approval and a fake smile.

He called Epona, suddenly sick of Hyrule. "Epona?" he asked, "Remember how we used to explore the world?" His horse whinnied an agreement. "Want to go out again?"

He would follow the prince. He would help him through whatever crisis availed itself to him. He would be the prince's friend. But more importantly, he would leave Hyrule and never looked back.

_'Besides,' _he thought bitterly, _'The Alteans sound as though they could do with the Hero of Time.'_

GAME OVER

Well, that was my attempt at angst. Hope you enjoyed it. And no, Zelda isn't going to give up that easily, and Link will be annoyed and every kind of sticky situation you can see arising from this will occur. I mean, what the hell right? I need to give my sadistic side a good exercise. Anyway, I must apologise for the poor quality of this epilogue- I haven't written a thing in ages so I'm having trouble getting back into the swing of things.

Thanks for reading :)


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